


The Devil Is In The Detail

by wackyjacqs



Series: Bizarre Holidays [71]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s03e12 Jolinar's Memories, Episode: s03e13 The Devil You Know, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 19:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wackyjacqs/pseuds/wackyjacqs
Summary: Sam glances over to see the colonel still hasn’t moved, so she finds herself making her way over to him and hovers by the bunk.“I can’t sleep.”He lets his arm fall away from his face as he meets her gaze. “Want to talk about it?”





	The Devil Is In The Detail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rsundayr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rsundayr/gifts), [ShoeQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShoeQueen/gifts).



> Written for ‘Napping Day’ (11 March) and was inspired by a picture post on Twitter from season 3’s Jolinar’s Memories/The Devil You Know – with the scene where Daniel is asleep on one bench, Jack’s lying on another and Sam’s on another. (Except in this fic they're now on their way home).
> 
> The conversation on Twitter essentially went: “She can tell that Jack’s not sleeping well & and you know she wants to crawl up in that bunk with him… Daniel will never know, right? He sleeps like the dead.”
> 
> “I smell a fic.”
> 
> “Leave it with me!”

Sam jolts awake with a gasp and glances around. It’s dim and quiet and cool, and it takes a few seconds for her to realize that she’s on the teltak.

Her clothes are drenched with sweat and cling uncomfortably to her skin, and she can do nothing but let her head fall back against the crate she’s been using for a makeshift bed and tries to take long, slow breaths.

Images flood her mind.

_Snapshots of Jolinar’s torture and her tryst with Bynaar._

_Pictures of Apophis, revived from the dead – again._

_Memories of her mother and father in happier times._

She chokes back tears as the emotions threaten to overwhelm her and she squeezes her eyes shut.

She can’t panic. Not yet. Not until she’s back home and can be by herself to fall apart, piece by piece.

Slowly, she opens her eyes and takes another look around. The compartment they’re in is virtually empty, save for herself, Daniel and the colonel, both of whom are lying on separate bunks along the opposite wall. The doorway that connects the space to the cockpit of the ship is closed and Sam suspects either her father or Teal’c is responsible.

She figures they must be crowded into the space, especially with Martouf and Aldwin also on the other side of the door, but she doesn’t particularly care. Not if it gives her and her teammates privacy and a quiet space to rest and try to recover from the hell they’ve endured.

Turning her head further to the left, she watches the guys. She hears Daniel’s light snores as they fill the room and she smiles softly before she lets her gaze drift to her commanding officer. He’s thrown an arm over his face so she can’t quite see him, but she has a feeling that he isn’t actually sleeping. His leg is healing as well as it can under the circumstances, but his breathing is a little too laborious and strained, and she knows it has nothing to do with the injuries he’s received on Netu.

“Go back to sleep, Carter,” he suddenly mumbles, not moving an inch, and Sam starts at the order.

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, feeling her cheeks grow red hot at having been caught watching him.

She closes her eyes, but the fear of those flashbacks returning is something she isn’t yet ready for, so she sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bench. Getting to her feet, she paces up and down the small space as quietly as she can.

“'Sup?”

Sam glances over to see the colonel still hasn’t moved, so she finds herself making her way over to him and hovers by the bunk.

“I can’t sleep.”

He lets his arm fall away from his face as he meets her gaze. “Want to talk about it?”

She abruptly shakes her head and chooses to ignore the concern that flashes in his eyes in response. She’s just about to say it doesn’t matter and she will try to get back to sleep when she feels his fingers loop around hers and gently pull her closer. She goes, willingly, before she sits down on the floor and pulls her knees to her chest. With one arm wrapped around her legs, she lets the other rest on the edge of the bunk, her fingers now entwined with the colonel’s.

He increases the pressure on her fingers just slightly and she finds herself shrugging at his silent question.

“I think I just need to get out of here,” she mumbles. “Get some fresh air.”

But she doesn’t tell him it’s because she feels like she is suffocating. Or the fact that she just wants home to shower. To stand under the scalding water as it beats down on her skin in the small chance that it’ll wash away not only the echoes left behind from the Blood of Sokar, but also the impressions Bynarr’s touch has left on her skin.

She isn’t able to repress a shudder at the memory.

“Cold?”

His voice is low and controlled, as if he is using every ounce of strength he has to not let his real emotions break through, but when she meets his gaze, she sees the battle unfold. Anger fights for dominance over concern, while there’s something else – something Sam isn’t sure she can – or wants – to identify lurking in his eyes.

But, despite knowing that she isn’t cold, she finds herself nodding. Until she feels his fingers twitch against hers again and it’s almost enough to break her resolve. She closes her eyes as the bile rises in her throat and she swallows hard as the tears threaten to fall. She’s too busy trying to claw back that final shred of light that’s being overtaken by the darkness, that she misses the brief stricken look on her commanding officer’s face.

“Maybe I do need more sleep,” she sighs. She starts to pull her hand away so that she can get to her feet, but his grip tightens around her fingers and she finds herself rooted to the spot.

“C’mere,” he mumbles as he carefully shuffles closer to the wall and after a moment’s hesitation, Sam crawls onto the bench beside him.

Wary of knocking his bad leg, she curls against his side as best as she can, and it’s only when she feels his arm wrap around her back and pull her closer that she starts to relax.

She lets one of her arms settle on his chest and from her position she can feel every breath he takes, his chest rising and falling, rising and falling, lulling her closer to sleep. The heat from his body slowly warms the chill that has settled in her bones, and he smells of sweat, and ash and whatever it is that is uniquely _him_ and it gives her comfort.

She feels her eyes grow heavy, and as the colonel buries his nose in her hair, he angles his lips next to her ear.

“Get some sleep, Sam,” he whispers and for the first time since leaving Netu behind, she’s not afraid to follow the order.


End file.
